Can You Read My Mind?
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Based on a Kink Meme prompt. Phil Coulson has been a telepath since his encounter with Loki. This is five times he used his ability to help others, and one time he used it to help himself. Although in doing so, he did help someone else. Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this.


Prompt: (page 41, round 17)

"Coulson is a telepath. Go."

"Can You Read My Mind?"

Aka "5 Times Phil's Ability Helped Others, And 1 Time It Helped Him"

Phil Coulson was telepathic. This was a new development, brought on by Loki's attempted murder. Whatever the spear was meant to do, it gave Phil the ability to read minds, which should have been great, right? He could know exactly what villains were about to do, what their nefarious plans were, and stop them. He could know Fury's secrets. He'd be better at judging people…

And that thought stopped him. If ever this ability disappeared, he couldn't afford to be out of practise at reading others. Not to mention that unless he controlled it, he was subjected to crushing headaches. Until mastered control over his telepathy, any wincing was explained away by his near-fatal injury. Except for situations where time was an issue, and where too many lives were at stake, he resolved never to use read-minding.

Unfortunately, not long after moving into the Avengers Mansion as their liaison (babysitter), Agent Coulson discovered that he was living with a group of people who were extremely private and, for the most part, had excellent poker faces.

* * *

1

Thor was usually the easiest one to read. On this occasion, however, he was silent, and his face was perfectly blank. Not a smile, not even a glimmer of recognition as Phil sat opposite him in the otherwise-empty lounge area. He liked talking with Thor whenever the thunder god visited New York. But the sunny nature had gone as swiftly as if Loki had again denounced their brotherhood in front of everyone.

"What's up?" Phil asked. Thor jerked to attention, and smiled forcibly.

"Greetings, Son of Coul," he said, voice flatter than usual.

"Greetings. You seem a little down. What's troubling you?"

Thor's smile faltered. "Why, nothing troubles me. What cause do you have to suppose this?"

"You've just got back, according to JARVIS, and you haven't moved from this spot. Now you look like someone's gone bilgesnipe-hunting without you. Actually, you look worse than that." No chuckle. Phil sighed. "Come on. You can tell me."

"There is… there is nothing even you can do to ease my melancholy."

"I could make pop tarts? Or we could watch some Disney?" Thor kept shaking his head. Phil resigned himself to the fact that the god was going to continue to be mulish. This, at least, he could tell. Moments after he allowed himself into Thor's mind, he witnessed the memory of a conversation between Thor and Odin, something recent. It didn't take long to discern the topic of discussion, and the source of Thor's unhappiness. He shut off the telepathy as soon as he could, and was relieved to see that Thor hadn't noticed.

"I wish to be alone," Thor mumbled.

"Are you going to visit Dr. Foster?" Thor flinched at the words. "I'll call her for you."

Phil stood, pulling his mobile out. He stopped when Thor made to grab his arm, knowing that to resist his hold could mean a nasty break, however unintentional.

"I would not have her know that I am here," Thor said. "I beg of you, Phillip."

"Why?"

"Because… she and I must not… My reasons are my own." Thor scowled, and Phil had the good sense to take half a step back. "They are not your concern."

"What happened while you were in Asgard, Thor? Something has changed. Did you have a disagreement with your parents?" Thor looked away, and Phil dropped his phone back into his pocket. "Was it about Jane? It was, wasn't it? I think I can guess."

"What could you know of such affairs?" Thor asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back into the sofa cushions. "You are mortal."

"And Dr. Foster isn't," Phil said gently. He noticed Thor tense. "Is that the problem? I'm guessing you want to spend forever with her, but your father has said that you can't because she's of Midgard."

"You are… correct in your assessment, Son of Coul."

"You want to marry her, don't you?" Thor hesitated, then inclined his head. "Your duty is to your people. But, Thor, you owe a duty to your heart as well."

"That matters little, when compared to Asgard's needs," Thor said.

"That's thinking like a monarch," Phil said. "It's noble of you, but you're also a man. Aesir, am I correct?"

"Aye."

"Do people marry for love, where you come from?"

"Aye, but they do not visit Midgard, and fall in love with those of their own kind."

Phil took his seat again, wanting to be closer to Thor's level. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and waited until Thor looked up.

"You've never found anyone else you want as much as you want Jane, have you?"

"I have not."

"In Greek mythology, humans who are impregnated by gods become gods themselves. Now, I'm not saying that's real, leaving aside the fact that I thought Norse mythology really was just mythology."

Thor was finally beginning to look hopeful. "You believe that this may indeed happen?"

"It could. Would you be able to find out?"

"Assuredly. And yet… surely I cannot go against my father's wishes?"

"When you become King of Asgard, he'll have to accept your rule. You can change the laws if you want to. In the meantime, yes. You should find out whether Dr. Foster can become immortal if she carries your child."

"Phillip Coulson," Thor said, still solemn through his beaming smile, "you have given me new hope. I must return to Asgard at once."

* * *

When Thor found out that, yes, Jane Foster could become immortal if she and Thor produced a child together, Phil was a guest of honour at their (speedy) wedding. Apparently, no matter the children's gender, it was also going to be named after him.

Phil hoped that Jane could talk Thor out of it if their first born was a girl.

* * *

2

If Phil ever thought being in Tony's head would be painful, he learned that the level of angst there was beyond anything he'd ever suspected. He literally flinched, but this was important. Over lunch, Pepper had been bemoaning how hard it was to know what Tony was thinking half the time, especially considering his nightmares. She'd seen the videos – hell, Phil had seen the videos – but they could still only imagine what other horrors Tony might have experienced in Afghanistan.

But today, Tony's thoughts were nowhere near the past. They were on the future, and it was close to giving Phil a headache.

"So nothing happened during lunch?" Tony asked, pressing the point. Phil had dropped in to the workshop to check on Tony after he got back from meeting Pepper.

"What was supposed to happen?"

"Nothing, nothing. But she didn't… mention me?"

"Tony, I live here. I see you as much as she does."

Tony frowned, and went back to tinkering with random things on his work bench. Phil stood on the other side, watching him, finally creeping into his mind to find out what was up.

'He's her friend, like a girl-friend. If she wanted to get married, she'd tell him, wouldn't she? So does that mean she doesn't want to get married? After Thor's wedding, I thought… Stupid, Tony. Just stupid to think of that.'

Phil shook his head slightly, wondering whether he really was hearing this.

'Why would she want to marry me? Damaged goods, bad organisational skills. I'd forget important dates. I forget that she's allergic to strawberries, I forget her birthday. I wouldn't have a hope in hell if we had kids. Could we even have kids? The palladium… and she hates it when I'm in danger… even almost broke up with me when Hammer tried to fuck things up… I should just return the ring. What if she's found it, and just hasn't said anything? And Agent won't tell me, of course he won't. He's her friend. He doesn't want to be my friend. He likes the others. Probably in love with Cap.'

Phil shuddered at the thought of being in love with the childhood hero he'd looked up to as a second father figure. Yeah, Steve Rogers was devastatingly handsome, but all of the Avengers were horribly attractive, especially…

"Tony," Phil said. Tony dropped his screwdriver and metal plate.

"What?"

"Do you love Pepper?"

"Do I…" Tony looked at him like he was crazy. "Of course I do! Is the space Pope reptilian?"

"I'm… going to ignore that extremely blasphemous remark, and move on," Phil said. "If you want to be with her forever, why don't you marry her?"

'Because I continually risk my life, she'd be even more of a sitting target, we could never have children and I'm sure she wants them…'

It took Phil a second to work out that those were Tony's thoughts, and that he wasn't actually speaking. He was staring at Phil.

"What?" Phil asked. Did he miss something?

"Can you see me getting married?" Tony said.

"I've seen you in a suit, and Pepper would make a lovely bride. As for an alter, bridesmaids, and confetti, well, I won't know until I see it, will I?" Tony still looked unsure, and Phil went out on a limb. He held out his hand. "Let's start over. Hi. My name is Agent Phil Coulson, and I'm the Avengers liaison. I hope we can be friends, Tony."

The billionaire looked endearingly baffled. Then he seemed to brighten, just minutely, and he shook Phil's hand.

"I'd like that," he said.

"Then, as one friend to another," Phil said, pulling him closer, "ask Pepper to marry you, for God's sake. She was bitching about it to me today, and wondering whether she should ask first. Nearly talked my ear off with her insecurities. I think she deserves some reassuring, don't you?"

* * *

Rhodey was best man, but Phil got to walk Pepper up the aisle and give her away. And another child was going to be named after him.

"If it's a girl, it'll be Pippa or something, I swear," Tony said, giving Phil a man-hug before he climbed into the limo. "We'll send you a postcard. A dozen. A hundred. Is a thousand too many?"

"See you later, Phil," Pepper said, tugging Tony into the car. "Thanks again, so much."

"Good luck, Mr. and Mrs. Stark," Phil said. He waved as they drove off, then called Fury. "They're off. Has the security detail been upped? Good. No one's hurting my people," he murmured as he hung up, and slipped his phone back into the pocket of his dress jacket.

* * *

3

Phil was sick of seeing his Avengers sulk, but – as with Thor – there was something so wrong about seeing Captain America mope. He had been peppier lately, and now he had crashed. Phil placed a coaster and a mug of hot chocolate in front of the captain, then sat on the stool beside him with his own cup.

"Can I help you?" Steve said glumly.

"I was hoping I could help you, captain. What seems to be the problem?"

"Nothing."

"Now come on. You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

Steve glanced at him, then he took a sip of the hot chocolate, eyes falling shut in clear bliss. "That's good."

"Would you lie to me, Steve?"

He paused, then set his mug down. "It's nothing, Agent Coulson. Nothing that can be done."

"Something from your past is haunting you?" Steve didn't reply. "Please tell me. Sometimes it helps just to talk—"

"It won't! Not this time." Steve pushed away from the stool. Phil grabbed his arm to stop him, and Steve nearly swung at him. He stopped at the last moment, meeting Phil's unflinching gaze, and his eyes widened. "Oh gosh, Phil, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I…" He looked away.

"The problem is, soldier," Phil said, "you do know what the problem is, and I don't. I wish you'd tell me."

When Steve still seemed reluctant to talk, Phil sighed internally and gently opened Steve's mind. What he saw there made his heart ache, but he didn't stop watching until the end. Even then, he kept a hold of Steve's arm.

"What happened to your friend?" he asked. "Your best friend. The one who died. He fell, didn't he?" Steve nodded slowly. "Is it the anniversary today?" Another nod. "I… I know I'm being impertinent, and don't feel obligated at all to answer this, but…" No. He couldn't ask how far their friendship extended. He changed the question. "Do you want to visit the site? I'll understand if you don't want to—"

"I can't get there," Steve said. "It's… an awkward place."

"But we can fly there. If you want me to come with you."

Steve's eyebrows drew together. Then, gradually, he smiled, and nodded again.

"I'd like that, Phil," he said.

* * *

It was hard, seeing Steve so upset as they flew over the pass, following the train track. Steve pointed, unable to speak, and Phil provided a handkerchief and a shoulder to cry on, whenever necessary. Rather than flying back straight away, they, and the pilot and co-pilot, stayed at a hostel overnight. When there was an attack reported a few miles away, they all leapt into action.

And found the Winter Soldier.

It hurt even more to witness Steve's pain when they had to capture and subdue his best friend and take him to SHIELD. But it was all worth it when his mind was once again his own, and the two friends were reunited.

When the embrace went on for longer than expected, Phil left them alone, and returned to the mansion with the good news.

"Aw, don't be heartbroken, Agent," Tony said, leaning over the arm of Phil's chair. "I'm sure you and Steve can still be friends." Phil frowned.

"Of course we can. Why would I be heartbroken, Stark?"

Tony looked surprised. "I thought you had a crush on him?"

"How Freudian," Phil muttered. Aloud, he said, "Tony, I look up to Captain America like a kid looks up to his father, and I consider Steve to be a… well, not a father, and not really a brother. But a friend. Or a cousin, if we're continuing the family vein."

"Oh." Phil thought that was the end of the conversation. "Then who do you like?"

"Does there have to be someone?" Phil asked rhetorically. And he very carefully kept his eyes from wandering to a certain cute doctor.

* * *

4

Weaknesses were terrible, and most people thought that Natasha Romanov had none. But she did. Her pride was a weakness, for a start. And Phil was never more grateful for his telepathic powers than the day he realised just how deadly it could be.

Natasha had been injured during a mission, which had included wounds to the stomach. One of the wounds was from a knife, and there'd been a risk of infection. She was pumped with antibiotics, and pills were prescribed. Phil had no idea whether or not she was taking them as regularly as she was supposed to, but if she wanted to recover and get back on the field, she had to follow instructions.

Phil went to her room to ask what she wanted for dinner, since he found he got more truthful answers when he asked in person, rather than getting JARVIS to do it. People liked the personal touch more than they wanted to admit, at least in the Avengers Mansion. Especially Steve and Bucky, who were ridiculously old-fashioned like that, despite Bucky's excitement over Tony's technology.

"Natasha?" Phil asked, and he knocked again.

"Y-yes?"

He frowned, then pushed the door open. Natasha's face smoothed out half a second later, which was slow for her, and he had definitely seen a wince.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. She grimaced.

"Just an ache around here," she said, indicating the wound area.

"Have you taken your painkillers?"

"Yes, Momma Coulson."

"Don't you start." He studied her closely as he approached. "Did you want anything special for dinner? Maybe something bland, or softer than usual?"

She snorted softly. "Of course not. Whatever the others are having. I trust their judgement."

"Should I trust yours?" Phil asked. Her face closed off immediately, and he berated himself. Recognising that she wasn't going to be forthcoming, he pushed his way into her mind. If she ever knew that he was violating her privacy, she would probably maim him; but this was important.

He could tell right away the location of the pain, how bad it was, and knew that it couldn't possibly be from her injury.

"Has your wound become infected?" he said. She looked up at him again, and shook her head. "Natasha, I want Bruce to take a look at you."

"That's not all you want him to do."

"That's enough, young lady," he said, then his eyes widened. "Good God. I am Momma Coulson."

While Natasha chuckled, he focussed on her once more. She was going to be obstinate about this, and he would have to act fast.

Before her laughter stopped, he moved forward and pinched the correct nerve, knocking her out. He swept her up and spoke to JARVIS.

"Get Dr. Banner to the medical wing," he said.

"He is on his way, sir," the AI replied.

"Thanks."

Bruce was already there when Phil arrived, Natasha beginning to stir. He placed her on the bed and strapped her down. It was a necessary evil with his agents.

"I think she has appendicitis," he told Bruce. "Even if that's not it, there's something wrong, and if it's not related to the wound then it's being masked by the pain from it."

"All right," Bruce said. He conducted a swift examination, ignoring Natasha's curses when she regained consciousness and realised what had happened.

"I apologise if I've inconvenienced you for no reason," Phil said. "But I'm not sorry, even if it's a false alarm."

"It's not a false alarm," Bruce said, halting Natasha's flow of harsh-sounding Russian. "She needs medical help immediately. It is her appendix."

"But… I do not understand," Natasha said, looking from one to the other. "I was told… at the Red Room… It should not be happening!"

"Well, it is," Bruce said. "You should've come to me a couple of days ago. Right now, time's of the essence. Thank you, Phil." He reached over and squeezed Phil's hand, where it was resting beside Natasha's on the hospital bed. "We should get it in time."

* * *

They did. Natasha was in recovery by the time everyone had assembled in the hospital waiting area. When Bruce confirmed that she was going to be fine, and that her other injuries were healing well, they were all incredibly relieved. Clint hugged Phil.

"Thanks, boss," he whispered.

"Anytime, Barton," Phil said, hoping it wouldn't be necessary.

* * *

5

Clint was sitting there, smirking. Natasha had been out of hospital for a few months now, fighting fit again, and looking forward to being an aunty to Pepper and Tony's firstborn. They were all looking forward to the baby, even the six-months-old Princess Verdandi, affectionately known as 'Pip' (Thor was determined to honour Phil in some way). The babies would age at a different rate from each other after they hit puberty, but Pip was going to be living primarily in Asgard, so she wouldn't have much of a chance to get attached to her Earth companions.

"Are you planning something I should put a stop to?" Phil asked. Clint hummed.

"Just basking in a memory," he said, and he crossed one leg over the other, eyes still on the ceiling. He was clearly day-dreaming. As long as he wasn't plotting anything world-ending, Phil didn't want to know. Especially if it was Natasha-related, which would explain the dopey grin.

Half an hour later – and a couple of chapters along – Phil glanced at Clint again when he reached for his glass. The smirk had faded. Phil closed the book, using his thumb to keep his place.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

"They're not worth it."

"Then give them to me for free." Clint didn't crack even half a smile. "Clint, what's the matter? Something's wrong." Phil massaged his temples with his free hand. "I swear, you'll all drive me to an early grave. I'm not just your SHIELD liaison, I'm your friend, and I've known you longer than I've known any of the others, Clint. You know I'm good at keeping secrets."

When Clint didn't reply, Phil resigned himself to using telepathy again. It was getting to be a headache, and he certainly didn't intend to make it a habit.

It was easy to break in to Clint's train of thought.

'Love isn't just for children, is it? Jane and Thor… Tony and Pepper… Steve and Bucky… Phil and—'

Phil pulled away there, not wanting to acknowledge anything by hearing the words in thought, never mind out loud. Once he felt it was safe, he moved back in.

'I was unmade. I'm broken, more than I was before. The sex is great,' Phil made a face, 'but why can't it be more? I wouldn't hit her or anything, like my dad. If anyone dared to do that, she'd just hit `em right back. We don't have to have kids. We don't even have to get married. I just want something more than a quick f—'

Still uncomfortable about the thought of his two agents together, or at least learning about it first-hand (so to speak), Phil sat back and propped his legs up on the sofa beside him. This would take some thinking about to solve. He didn't want to risk reading Natasha's mind again, even if it saved her life last time. He wasn't anyone's goddamn fairy godmother.

Except he was beginning to feel like that was actually the case.

Finally settling on a plan, he sent a text message behind the book he now had resting on his legs, bent at the knees. He received a reply fifteen seconds later: 'YES.' Taking that as an agreement, he used one of the apps Tony had installed on the phone, and made a booking at a restaurant he knew Clint and Natasha would like, where the meal and drinks were paid in advance.

"Clint, could you do me a favour?" he said. The archer sat up straight.

"Sure thing, Phil. What is it?"

"I was supposed to be having dinner with Pepper tonight, to catch up since Tony's working on the nursery and she's only sick in the morning. Her exact words were 'If I'm going to lose dinner in the morning, I want it to be something decent for once'."

"Like anything prepared here is anything less than decent," Clint said, rolling his eyes. Phil chuckled.

"I think it was just an excuse to get away for the night. It's a secure location, and everything is paid in advance. But she's not feeling so good, and you know how worried she is about her first pregnancy."

"So…?"

"Why don't you go in my place? Take Natasha. You'd both lo— like it, and, as I said, it's a secure location."

"Phil, I can't," Clint said, wide-eyed. "It's too much."

"Tony paid for it."

"Oh." That obviously changed things. "What if we get called up?"

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen. Just enjoy your date, and have an extra helping of dessert for me. The booking is in my name, for security reasons."

Clint nodded. "How, uh, how do I dress?"

"Nicely. Do you have a suit?"

"Uh… you mean a black-tie kind of suit? I think so. Maybe."

"Find the nicest clothes you own. I'll speak to Natasha."

* * *

In the end, she agreed, only because Phil told her how excited Clint was, and that Steve and Bucky already had a date. He then booked a dinner for the two at a nice place, all expenses paid, and told them that it was part of a master plan. They trusted him enough not to question it.

When Tony saw what Clint had to wear, he nearly threw a fit, and ordered a suit from his tailor to Clint's measurements. It was delivered within two hours, just in time for both of them to get ready. The way Natasha and Clint looked each other over was actually really sweet. Sure, it was now up to them, and there'd be no overnight miracle – not even close – like there had been for the others. But it was better than nothing, and those left behind toasted each other.

With Clint, Natasha, Bucky, and Steve out, that just left Bruce, Phil, Pepper, and Tony. They lounged around, debating the merits of various movies, and were halfway through the second feature when Steve and Bucky returned. They joined the others for the third film, and partway through that was when Natasha and Clint stumbled out of the elevator, kissing. When they saw that they had an audience, they hurried back into the lift.

* * *

The next morning, Phil was the first up (after Steve and Bucky, who were already down in the gym). Clint shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and brightened when he noticed Phil.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," Phil replied. "Nice night?"

"The best," Clint said, and he smiled sleepily. "I owe you one."

"Not a problem. And technically Stark paid for it."

"I prefer to owe you. You're easier to buy for."

Phil laughed, and cut his toast in half. "You're welcome."

Clint helped himself to cereal, and Phil nudged the sugar towards him. He received a grateful smile in return.

"You know," Clint said as he poured a glass of pomegranate juice, "you could've just found your own date."

"Hmm? Like who?"

"Like the handsome doctor you've wanted for years? He's into you, too."

"He really isn't," Phil said, denying it without thinking. He tensed when he realised they had company, and turned. It was Bruce, who seemed to find the floor very interesting, because he was staring at it intensely. Phil's face heated up, and he swallowed down the last piece of his toast. Clint clapped him on the back, then picked up his juice and cereal.

"See ya," he said, and he elbowed Bruce on the way past. Phil cleared his throat once they were alone, and took his dishes to the sink to rinse them off. It was as he turned around from putting them in the dishwasher that he found the guts to speak.

"I don't know how much you heard," he began. Bruce waved his hand.

"It's okay, Phil," he said. "Your secret's safe with me."

"I'm surprised it's a secret, if Clint knows about it."

"Well, if everyone knew then Tony would've told me, so I think he'll keep his mouth shut."

Phil nodded, then escaped before he could melt from embarrassment.

* * *

+1

If one more of Phil's team got hurt, he was going to take on the bad guys personally, in hand-to-hand combat if necessary, and show them that he wasn't just a suit and a halfway decent gunman.

Fortunately – for them – they were finished in seconds. Thor hadn't been called, but Tony and Pepper were looking after their newborn, and Clint and Natasha were on a mission, so that left Steve, Bucky, and Bruce to deal with the problem. And Phil, who was pissed that his weekend had been interrupted. They were supposed to be watching 'The Plank' tonight, since they needed something which was pure comedy to balance out all the dramas and epics they'd been watching recently before it was child-friendly films for twelve years.

"Check in," he said, touching his earpiece.

"Good here," Steve said, and Phil could just make out the figure in red-white-and-blue further down the street.

"All clear," Bucky said, emerging from the other side.

"Anyone seen the Hulk?" Phil asked, looking around.

"He went south, but I can't see him," Steve said, shielding his eyes as he and Bucky drew closer to Phil. "He must be Bruce again."

"I'll go look," Phil said. "Notify Fury that it's taken care of, then let the Starks know. Pepper made me swear that we'd establish contact immediately post-battle."

"I'll call her, you call Fury," Bucky said, getting his phone out and removing his earpiece. Phil strode down the street, keeping an eye out and calling Bruce's name.

He thought he heard an answer, and ran in that direction. There was a pile of debris, and some of it was sliding, almost like an avalanche. Phil got there in time to see a larger piece rolling down to hit Bruce on the head. The doctor was exhausted, too tired to transform back into the Hulk, and he lost consciousness before Phil could reach his side.

He was nearly there when he heard a groaning sound. Looking up, he saw part of an awning about to collapse. Without thinking, he rolled them out of the way and off the pile of debris. That caused a genuine avalanche of broken concrete and metal. But they were safely out of the way by then, and Phil hovered over Bruce.

"Wake up, Bruce," he said, shaking him. He checked for a pulse, then checked the doctor's eyes. Just unconscious. But it was likely he had concussion. Phil called for a SHIELD medical van, and tried to stem the flow of blood from Bruce's head wound using his handkerchief. When that didn't help, he shed his jacket, rolled it up, and used it as a cushion, waiting and praying for Bruce to awaken. When he did, he seemed disoriented, and took awhile to focus.

"Phil?" he said, staring up at the agent. "That you?"

"Yes. I'm here, Bruce."

"Good." He nodded, and flinched. "Hit my head."

"I know. A medical team's on the way. Just stay with me, okay?"

"Want to." Bruce pressed into Phil's hand, where he was still applying pressure. "Love to."

"Then stay awake. That's all you have to do, Bruce. Just stay awake."

"Don't mean in that way," Bruce mumbled, but he grinned. "Wish you could read my mind. Other guy hates that I don't… tell you what I'm thinking. What I'm feeling."

"What are you feeling?" Phil asked, only half-listening, although the words 'read my mind' stood out. He was busy looking for the ambulance and trying to keep Bruce awake. "Tell me what you feel, Bruce. Bruce? Bruce, stay awake!"

The doctor jolted back to consciousness, and stared blearily at Phil. "Am awake. `Less it's a dream. Is this a dream? Can it be? Years." He tried to move closer to Phil. "Haven't know you that long. Wish we'd met… years ago. Before. But." He nodded. The movement was sluggish. "Get to hospital. You can see your… I thought… Your doctor must play cello."

"Cello?" The van was coming down the street, so he returned his full attention to Bruce. "What're you talking about?"

"Cellist."

"The cellist is my cousin's friend-turned-wife. I organised their wedding, since it had to be kept from their parents, who don't approve of homosexuality, at least not in their children."

Bruce coughed, and there was a trace of blood. Phil stroked it away.

"See your doctor soon anyway," Bruce said.

"Shh." Phil was concerned. Now the doctor was making no sense. Thank God the paramedics were here. They were already wheeling a stretcher around the destruction.

"You don't know what you do to me," Bruce whispered, voice fading rapidly. Phil pulled him close, ready to pick him up.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Bruce just mumbled something, which almost sounded like his name. "Bruce? Talk to me. Bruce!"

"Agent Coulson, we need to take Dr. Banner with us now," one of the medics said, touching his shoulder. Phil hoisted Bruce up and placed him on the trolley, reluctant to let go. But debriefing needed to be done, and he didn't have a medical degree, so there was nothing he could do.

* * *

"When Rogers told me my top agent was blowing off a debrief to sit with his crush, I found it hard to believe him," Fury said, standing almost toe-to-toe with Phil. It wasn't hard. He was reclining in an uncomfortable hospital chair beside Bruce's bed, legs stretched out in front. He glared balefully up at his commander.

"You'll have my report on your desk by oh-eight-hundred tomorrow," he said.

"I'm not gonna read it. Not until you ask Banner on a date. And that's final." He turned around with a swirl of his cloak and stalked out of the room. Phil didn't have the energy to do anything other than continue to slump in the chair, left hand resting near Bruce's right.

"Wake up soon, doc," he said, wanting desperately to hold Bruce's hand, but not daring to. It was going to be alarming enough for the doctor to wake in a hospital room, without someone clutching his hand in a death-grip.

When Bruce finally came around, Phil waited for him to take in his surroundings before he spoke.

"How're you feeling?" he asked. Bruce still seemed dazed.

"Okay," he said. "Sore, though. What happened?"

"You took a hit to the head after you changed back," Phil said, standing carefully. "Do you remember?"

"Not real— No, no. I don't remember anything."

"Anything at all?" Bruce shook his head, averting his eyes. "Bruce?"

It was going to be another case of having to use telepathy. Phil really didn't want to use it on Bruce, especially if it alerted the Hulk. But if Bruce wasn't going to elaborate – hell, even tell the truth – then Phil would have to ignore his feelings and just go for it.

'He shouldn't be here. Why would he be here? After what I said… Now he knows. Why can't he say what he's thinking? I was too late. I know that. Just say something!'

"Bruce," Phil said softly, and he sat on the edge of the bed, gently wrapping his hand around the doctor's. He tried not to tremble, but the contact was electric, and something he'd wanted for longer than he cared to admit. "I'm going to kiss you. Push me away if you don't want it."

He leaned over and pressed his lips to Bruce's slightly gaping mouth. He waited, for something, anything, rejection or acceptance. When Bruce didn't move, Phil applied more pressure and tilted his head further. He didn't dare try to hold Bruce's arms, in case restrained brought on a negative reaction. The best he could do was—

There. Bruce kissed back, and cupped Phil's cheek with his free hand. Just as things got interesting, though, he pushed Phil away.

"Don't," he said, and he wiped his mouth. "Your doctor might catch you."

Phil smiled, and stroked Bruce's hair. "You caught me a long time ago, Bruce."

"I… I don't…" He was the picture of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Bruce." Phil sighed. "I've been in love with you for years."

Bruce shook his head as he sat up. "No. We only met eighteen months ago."

"You've been on SHIELD's radar for a long time, nearly two decades. Your scientific research has generated interest since you were in your late teens, early twenties. We did meet once, when I was sent to sound you out about working for SHIELD. But you were too busy, and then you ended up working for the military."

"When? I don't remember that."

"I should've known better than to try to catch you at work, but you worked more than you did anything else, and that included sleeping." He maintained eye contact. What could he say? Two words: those eyes. "I tried to say hello, but you weren't listening. When I asked what you were doing, the explanation went completely over my head, so I couldn't tell you what it was about. You asked for something – it might've been a test tube, or a file, or some kind of compound – and you smiled when you thanked me for it. That was…" He blushed. "That was when I fell in love with you. I never saw you again, not until we met on the Helicarrier. I was in charge of your file, though." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "Half the reason I nominated you for the Avengers Initiative was so I could see you again. You just… didn't remember my name. And you didn't recognise me. I… I had more hair back then, I know."

Bruce didn't speak for awhile, and Phil didn't want to look into his mind, just in case. He simply waited it out, hoping he hadn't mistaken the meaning behind Bruce's words and thoughts.

"You've been in love with me… for nearly twenty years?"

"Yes."

"Nearly half your life?"

"A bit less than that, but yes."

Bruce shook his head. "I've only been in love with you for a year. How… how could you've waited that long?"

"Patience is a talent of mine," Phil said wryly. Then the words registered. "You love me?"

"Yes. So much. More than you know."

Smiling again, Phil leaned in.

This time, there was no objection. An interruption, of course, when Tony and Pepper burst into the room, closely followed by Bucky and Steve. They cleared their throats, looking away awkwardly, as Phil sat up and turned around.

"I suppose it's my fault for not closing the door," he said. "But would any of you have knocked?"

"Probably not," Tony said. "Well, I wouldn't."

"They weren't kidding about you two," Steve said. "Clint and Tasha said you fancied Bruce, but you never made a move, so we thought they were…" He shrugged helplessly. Phil smiled as he turned back, and brushed his fingers over Bruce's cheek.

"They've known me a long time," he said.

* * *

THE END

**Why the smeg I finished it there, I'll never know.**

**Anyway, I got the title from the song 'Can You Read My Mind?' from the first Superman movie. I think it was the first one. Yeah, yeah, I know he's DC, and I'm a Marvel girl. Moving on.**

**This was for a Kink Meme prompt, where the entire premise was that Phil is telepathic. I considered a few different directions before going with this one, and because I ship Phil with basically anyone, I chose Bruce.**

**Gosh darn it. Now I've got that song stuck in my head. On the plus side, it's a really pretty song. And I made caramel biscuits today.**

**Off-topic.**

**Please review!**


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